


Let's Talk About Sex (Baby)

by peacefulboo



Series: Let's Talk About You and Me [1]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Brief mention of an unwanted sex act in the past, F/M, Frank discussion of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-22 13:27:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15582978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacefulboo/pseuds/peacefulboo
Summary: In their 18 year partnership, they never really talked about it. She doesn't even wonder why.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is co-written with C in every sense of the word. She's just a stinker who won't let me name her. This is all her fault. ;) 
> 
> Let us know what you think, yeah?

In the lull between their first Grand Prix Final win and Christmas, Montreal is hit with a series of crappy weather systems, snow sandwiched between two ice storms, that leave Tessa and Scott cooped up for too many days on end. By the end of the second day they’re over the joy of having an extra day or two off, have made it through all the tv they are inclined to watch, and have taken to staring out the windows of Tessa’s condo like little kids looking for their playmates to suddenly appear. 

By the evening of the third day, Scott has already done pushups with Tessa sitting cross-legged on his back (twice) and they’re almost done with the last of two bottles of wine. 

Which is why Tessa is laying on her back on her couch, her legs up over the back, her hair cascading down to the ground as her face gets red. She’s pretty sure she doesn’t remember ever acting this antsy and restless even when she was a teenager. 

“What the hell is this playlist, Virtch?” Scott asks, scoffing when the bluesy, sensuous beat gives way to Paula Cole singing "Feeling Love". 

Tessa sits up quickly and attempts to grab the phone from Scott, eyes wide and cheeks red. 

He turns so his back is to her as he scrolls through the rest of the songs. 

“I don’t know why, but I never pictured you as being one to have a sex playlist,” Scott tells her, the smirk still firmly planted on his face. 

She rolls her eyes and replies, “It’s not for sex, per se.” And it’s not. 

“This is definitely a sex playlist,” he says as he scrolls through the rest of the songs on the list. “You titled it “Let’s Get it On.” That’s a thing you actually did.”

“You are the worst, Scott Moir,” she mutters as she sits back in her seat. “And you’re wrong,” she insists. 

Scott looks up from the phone and peers at her from where he’s sitting on the other end of the couch, head cocked, like he’s trying to figure her out. After 19 years living in each other’s pockets it sometimes feels like there’s little left to figure out, but they both still have their secrets. There are certain topics they just don’t touch. 

Sex is at the top of the list. 

“Tessa.” He gives her an incredulous look. He only uses her full name if he’s talking about her in the media or when he’s calling her out on something. Shit. “If it’s not a sex playlist, what exactly is it?” he asks as he peers at her intently. 

Tessa groans and buries her face in her hands. It’s only because she’s had two and a half glasses of wine and they’ve been stuck inside for two days that she mumbles, “It’s to get me in the mood for...” She trails off and shakes her head. “Nope. We are not having this conversation.”

“But now I’m super curious, T.” He takes hold of her foot and shakes it vigorously from side to side. “Tell me.”

She snatches her foot back and slaps his hand away. 

“Ah, come on. Just tell me, T-bone,” he weedles, “I’ll keep your secret.”

He pushes against her knee and the look on his face is so ridiculous that she decides to go for it. 

“It’s for masturbating,” she tells him, looking him in the eye. She smirks at how big his eyes get. His hand opens like he’s about to drop the phone, which would honestly be the best option. 

His initial shock doesn’t last long, much to Tess’s consternation. She sees him swallow as he processes what she says and then his slack hand curls around the phone again and she can tell he’s looking more closely at the songs on the list. Fuck. 

“I’ve actually had sex to a few of these,” he tells her with an extremely self-satisfied look on his face.

“Let me guess. INXS?” she asks once she goes through the list in her head. 

He looks up sharply at her before shrugging, “Among others.”

“Jessica, right?” she prods. 

“Oh we’re not gonna get into that,” he replies, looking back to the phone.

She’s right. 

“And if I had to guess, you’ve listened to Wicked Games with both her and Cassandra?”

“It is a classic,” he says with zero shame. 

“I can’t really argue with that since it’s on my list,” she concedes. 

The conversation is making her antsy so she twists around to grab the wine bottle and pours what’s left of the bottle into her glass.

“Whoa. You have Good Kisser on your playlist for spanking the monkey?” he asks, voice high and a little scandalized. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Maybe,” she says without really thinking it through. Maybe? He has her phone in his hand. 

“Okay, I need to know more than maybe,” he says, voice a little normal now. 

“Not a chance,” she says eying him over the rim of her glass.

“When exactly was this list made?” he asks.

“Stop talking!”

“You know me better than that,” he tells her with another dumb smile. At least she’s pretty sure he’s smiling. She’s got her face buried in her knees and is cursing the ice storm and the wine and Scott’s ridiculous face. “Just tell me.”

Fine. 

“The list has existed since I was 15, but it’s,” she pauses trying to come up with the right word, “Evolved.”

“Fifteen?” he almost shouts. 

“Yeah,” she replies, her tone letting him know that he’s ridiculous if he finds that shocking. 

“And when did it evolve to include a song from one of our sexier programs?” he asks, quickly moving on. “Like I’m just trying to figure out if you were jilling off to this song while when we were skating to it, or did that come after.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” she mutters as she slides off the couch onto the floor, all while managing to keep her wine glass upright. “I hate your nosey ass so much right now.”

“We don’t say shut up to each other. And we don’t name call,” he says, tone dry as a bone. 

“Bullshit,” she mutters. And then his words sink in. “Did you just call masturbation,’Jilling off?”

“Yes, Tessa, it’s the girl form of jacking off,” he tells her with a straight face. It only lasts for a second before he winks at her and she rolls her eyes. 

“You are such a twelve-year-old sometimes,” she tells him. 

Her cheeks are still red and she thinks she may have to take her hoody off or she’ll die from how overheated she is now, but she realizes that she kind of wants to have this conversation with him. She closes her eyes and tells it straight. 

“Good Kisser got added a few days into working on the program.”

He doesn’t say anything in response but she can hear him shifting around and then he slides off the couch too, and sprawls out next to her. 

“And were you thinking about anyone in particular when you were getting off to that song?” he asks, curiosity lacing his voice. 

She doesn’t answer right away. In fact she doesn’t answer the question at all. 

“Why do we never talk about sex?” she asks instead. 

“Besides the fact that when I started having it you were 14 years old?”

“I’m 27 now,” she points out. “In 13 years we’ve never really talked about sex.”

“What do you want to know?” he asks. 

Her head jerks over to look at him. He’s laying down on his belly a few feet away from her, his head resting on his folded arms, his face open, but serious. 

Tessa rolls from her back to her front and takes a long drink of her wine. 

Apparently they’re doing this. 

“What’s your game plan when you have sex?” she asks. It’s not the most elegant way to ask the question but it’s a start. 

“Like, what do I do first?” 

“And second and third, etc.,” she answers. She’s always been curious about what Scott would be like during sex. She has her guesses and would really like to know if she’s right. 

“You sure you want to know?” he asks. He looks directly at her with his head cocked again. 

No. Yes. 

“Yeah. I want to know,” she answers. She mirrors him then. Pillowing her head on her folded arms, face toward his. 

“Kissing is usually a good place to start. You can tell a lot about a person by how they kiss,” he says. “I like to play with her hair, too. A little bit. Kiss down the jaw and neck, though some girls seem to be too ticklish there.”

“That would suck,” she says. 

“Yeah. It probably doesn’t surprise you much that I like to spend a little time touching her breasts. I use my hands and my mouth and sometimes I think I could stay there for days, if the girl is responsive enough.”

Tessa can’t help but wrinkle her nose at that. She has a complicated relationship with her boobs and spent enough time in her younger years being self-conscious about how small they were, or occasionally during off season, how big they were, that she never really found it in her to enjoy having them touched much. It didn’t help that most of the guys in her life didn’t seem to be terribly impressed with that part of her body. 

“Sorry,” he says when he sees her response. “I’m a bit of a boob man. Cliche, hey?” he adds sheepishly. 

“You like what you like,” she responds, shrugging. “I just never really understood the fascination,” she replies. “And the guys I slept with either seemed completely disinterested or just kind of pawed at them because they thought they had to.” She thinks for a second before continuing, “Pretty sure I’ve never been with a boob man, which makes sense.”

“Wait. What?” he asks, head popping up so he can look at her better. “How does that make sense?”

“I’m not exactly popping double D’s, or even a decent B most of the time,” she says, completely matter of fact. Why are they talking about her boobs now? Tessa sighs and drains her glass of wine. Like that’s gonna help. 

“But you have amazing breasts,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You have fantastic breasts. I’ve pretty much had a crush on your boobs since you were seventeen.”

“It must suck when they disappear on you,” she jokes to try and diffuse the tension. 

The look he gives her tells her it doesn’t really work. 

“You don’t have to believe me, but I’m gonna say it anyway,” he starts, sincerity suffusing every word. “There has never been a time since you were seventeen, that I have not appreciated your breasts.” He punctuates the words with a raised eyebrow as if to dare her to question him on this. “But let’s move on.”

“Please,” she begs.

“Well, since we’re sharing stories, if not wine,” he says as he eyes the empty wine bottle on the coffee table, “What’s your game plan, Virtch?”

“I have no game plan,” she says, too quickly. 

“Tessa Virtue always has a game plan. Tell me what it is.”

“The game plan is to get fucked.” She doesn’t really get where he’s going with this. 

“Sure, sure. But what gets you ready?” he asks. 

Why are they having this conversation again? “Ready?” The questioning look on her face causes Scott to drop his forehead onto his arms.

“Oh my god, Tess. What gets you wet. What turns you on?” he asks completely exasperated. 

“Getting fucked.”

Scott looks directly at her and responds with forced patience, “Yeah, but before the penis enters the vagina, what gets you jazzed?” He even does a half-hearted attempt at Jazz Hands for emphasis.

She sighs and thinks for half a second. “A guy who knows what he wants and goes for it.”

“But what about what you want?”

“What I want doesn’t matter in that situation. I take care of what I want if I’m jonesing for something specific.”

“That doesn’t make sense? What do you get out of it, then?” 

She definitely isn’t sure how to interpret the look he’s giving her so she ignores it. “Sex.”

“Are you being purposefully obtuse?”

“I haven’t really thought about it.” She’s not even lying. 

“Take a second and think about it. What do you want? What do you get out of it? What do you like about sex with another person?”

She sucks in a breath and then exhales forcefully trying to come to a satisfactory answer that she isn’t sure she has. “I want an orgasm and to feel another person’s body against and in mine. It really isn’t much more than that. The more efficiently those two things can happen, the better.”

He half nods, “So, fast and close then?”

“When it’s satisfying, yes.”

“And there’s nothing specific that you dig?” Why does he sound hopeful when he asks that?

“If I want specifics I take care of it myself.”

“Huh,” he says before changing tacs, “What was your best sexual experience with another person? How did that go?”

She stares at him for a second, and comes up empty. 

“The fact that you can’t come up with anything is killing me, T. My gender sucks.” He flops onto his back for emphasis, eyes closed.

She feels like she should be defensive at this point but is too curious to bother, “You have a best lay?”

“I’m pretty sure most everyone who has had sex has a best lay, yeah.”

“Okay, rapid fire. When was yours.”

“Early August, 2015.”

Kaitlyn, then. Not completely surprising. 

“Fine. Mine was after a competition. We snuck into a closet, stripped and fucked. I came, he came. It was magical,” she says with a sardonic smile. The guy was ripped as fuck and not afraid to hold her tight. It was good. 

Scott groans and bangs his head against the floor. 

“Your best fuck was in a closet after a competition,” he asks in disbelief and not a little disappointment. 

“Sure.” It was decent lay. It was fast and she came. She got back to the press conference in time. 

“Do I even want to ask what your worst fuck was?” he asks, obviously without thinking it through because he continues a second later with, “You don’t have to answer that.”

This one she has an immediate answer for so she gives it to him. “He knew I wasn’t against being fucked hard, and that I liked it when he touched my neck, so he decided I’d probably like to be choked from behind. I didn’t.” She answers without really considering how it would sound. 

“Wait. What the fuck?” he says immediately sitting up. “You were 18. What the fuck!”

His anger isn’t surprising but how quickly he knew when it happened is. How does he know that? “How do you know when that was?”

Scott clenches his jaw and then takes a deep breath as though steadying himself. “There was a week there where you’d flinch every time I touched your neck. It had never seemed to bother you before, and it didn’t seem to bother you much after that, but that week was brutal.”

“Ah.”

“I don’t think I realized how much I touched you there until then,” he says absently before looking back at her. “You’re gonna give me a name, right? So I can go kill him.”

“That’s a hard no,” she answers, absently brushing her fingers along the soft carpet. “Besides, I broke his nose with my elbow. He backed off pretty fast.”

Slowly he lowers himself back down to be eye level with her, the tension not leaving his jaw as he replies,“The fact that he just did that to you, no asking, no warning, makes me want to murder him anyway.”

“Scott, most guys don’t ask once things get going. They just...do and hope they don’t get their nose broken, I guess.” Tessa is aware that it sucks, and she’s gotten a lot more picky about her choice in sex partners as a result, but it took her awhile to get there. 

When Scott doesn’t respond, she looks back at him and sees his frown. 

She playfully taps him on his chin to get him to snap out of it. He looks at her then, his eyes a complete storm of conflicting emotions. She keeps her hand on his jaw and he reaches out to clasp it, slowly turning it so he can press a long kiss to the inside of her wrist. He pulls his mouth back but keeps a light hold on her hand, rubbing his thumb up and down the skin of her wrist. 

“I make it a point to be more selective about who I sleep with now. When I was younger it was all about feeling desired, so I wasn’t very discerning.”

He lightly squeezes her wrist affectionately before he says, “They were assholes, Tess. That’s in no way your fault.”

“I know,” she tells him. And she does. She decides to shift the conversation a little anyway. “Your turn.”

She tugs her hand out of his grasp to reach for her wine, only to realize that it’s all gone. She sighs as he looks to her with a confused expression. 

“For what?”

“Worst sexual experience with another person.”

“Oh god,” he groans out, pressing his face back into the carpet. 

“You don’t have to,” she says, giving him the same out he gave her. 

“It’s not bad so much as insanely embarrassing.”

“This should be good.”

“I got carded.”

“When did you go to a brothel?” she asks, sitting up fast as a whip, then settling so she’s leaning against the couch with her legs crossed in front of her. This should be fun. 

“No. No brothel. I was just at a bar and I hit it off with this woman. I think I had just turned 21 and Jess had gone back to Bryce. Anyway, I invited this woman back to my apartment since no one was there that weekend and just as we were about to get into the truck she pulled back and asked to see my ID.”

“Oh no. Poor baby-faced Scott,” she coos out. He gives her a death glare and she reaches out to brush the hair from his forehead. The way he sighs and leans into her fingers makes her smile so she pats her lap with her other hand and he shifts so his head is in her lap. His groan when she brushes her fingers through his hair has her biting her lip in satisfaction. “What happened after that.”

“We made it back to my place and were making out but just as I went to take off her shirt, she pulled back and shook her head, apologized and left. Said it felt too creepy as she walked out the door,” he snorts out a laugh. 

“That’s horrible,” she squeaks out. She can only imagine how crushing that was to him, but damn did he look young then. She didn’t see it when they were living it, he’d always been gorgeous to her, but when she sees the pictures of that time all she can think of is how young they looked. 

They sit there in silence for a few minutes as she plays with his hair and he revels in it. She absentmindedly begins to braid small sections of his hair and starts when he looks up at her and asks “What are you doing?”

“Braiding your hair,” she answers, expecting some sort of protest. 

“Feels good,” he assures her instead. 

“It looks ridiculous,” she tells him. 

“Whatever.” 

There’s a few more moments of silence and Tess is almost positive that he’s fallen asleep until he opens his eyes and looks at her thoughtfully.

“Is that why you circled back to Ryan?”

“Hmm?” she asks. 

“Because you were being picky?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure.”

“I dunno, T. He’s always seemed like such a douche,” he mumbles as he closes his eyes again. 

“”He wasn’t a douche. To me, anyway. He was one of the only guys who learned what I liked and did it consistently.”

“Are you going to actually tell me what you like now?”

Tessa rolls her eyes but takes the time now to really think it through. It’s less overwhelming now that they are touching, “Ryan paid attention. He was good at reading my...sounds, I guess. Especially since I wasn’t that great at saying what I needed.”

“What did he figure out?”

“I liked it when he would grab my hips hard and keep his entire weight was against me when he fucked me. I liked it when he would grasp my hair close to my scalp. It wasn’t pulling, really. It was firm.” She paused, lightly combing out the loose braids while remembering, “He was good about knowing when to move me into different positions and in his case, he didn’t need to ask because he was actually reading me. He learned me and that was nice. And he never tried to take it too far.”

“Okay,” he replies and she can tell he’s trying to process how these things come together. “But you’re not into pain?”

She takes her time before replying, knowing it matters that this makes sense to him. “No. I’m not afraid of it but pain isn’t the point. I really like,” she pauses to figure out the right words. “Pressure. Deep pressure.”

“Manhandling?” he asks, as he tries to hone in on what she’s getting out. 

“Kind of?” she answers, but it’s not really the right word. “I still want to feel like I’m in control. Like if I pull back or want to switch it up, that’s an option. Mostly guys I’ve been with have seen me as fragile, someone who needs to be handled with care or treated with kid gloves, and sometimes that’s nice, sure, but usually I enjoy strength. Both of us being seen and treated as strong and capable.”

“You want to feel that they respect your strength,” he says. 

“That’s a big part of it, yeah.”

He’s quiet for a bit after that before talking again. 

“I’ve never been comfortable being like that with my partners,” he admits, and there’s a hint of disappointment in his voice that has her heart dropping to her stomach. 

“You like what you like,” she says, recalling what she told him earlier in the conversation. 

“I’ve never really thought of it the way you talk about it, though,” he tries, almost as if he can sense her anxiety, “But from my side, it seems too harsh. Like if I let myself go there, I’d take it too far and hurt her. That’s not something I could stomach doing.”

Tessa closes her eyes and dips down to press a kiss to his forehead before replying, “You would never hurt someone, I know that.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he says with a bit of a smile, “I enjoy enthusiastic sex, and even hard and fast, but I’d probably drive you batshit with how much I check in. If we were ever together that way.”

“I can’t imagine not loving sex with you,” she blurts out. 

Well fuck. 

“I thought that right up until this conversation,” he admits with resignation. 

“I think you misunderstand what I’m saying I want,” she replies. 

“Am I?” he asks. He starts to push up and out of her lap, but she holds onto his arm and pulls him back down. 

“Let me try to explain it again,” she says. It’s so important that she gets this right. Once he settles back into her lap and looks up at her with guarded eyes she tries again. “The best sex for me has never been out of control. Not for a second. It’s been fast and hard, or sometimes deep and long, and probably still hard, but not messy. It’s like a massage. The masseuse provides deep pressure, sometimes to the point of pain, yes, but the point isn’t the pain.” She makes sure she’s looking directly at him when she emphasizes that again. “The point is the release afterward, yeah? That’s the kind of pressure I’m talking about. It takes strength but it also takes a lot of restraint.”

“I’m not sure that I’m capable of that combination,” he says and she has to shake her head in response. 

“You are absolutely capable of it. You do it with me on the ice every day,” she tells him with a laugh. 

“What?”

“Scott. Come on.” She can’t believe she has to say this. “You are so good at getting that balance of passion and strength with restraint. Think about when you lift me. You use a firm hand, and lots of speed and you aren’t worried about whether or not there’s a bruise at the end, because a bruise is better than me hitting the ice, yeah? In competition, when you’re hyped up on adrenaline and testosterone, it’s still the same. You let your passion out, but you are in control.”

“It’s not the same,” he says. “There’s not the same level of...arousal.”

“I might buy that argument for 16-year-old Scott, but now? You have so much control. I honestly think you’d be an amazing partner,” she says with a small shrug. 

“What if I couldn’t make you happy that way? What if I could only be sweet and loving and kind,” he asks. 

“They’re not mutually exclusive, Scott,” she says, barely taking note that she’s actually trying to convince him that he’d be a good lover for her. 

“Have you ever been in love with any of them?”

Tessa sucks in a harsh breath at the question. “No.”

“C’mere,” he whispers, reaching up to take her face in his hands. 

She doesn’t even blink before she’s bending over him to kiss his mouth. It’s gentle at first, and then the pressure increases and they both have to shift positions so they can get closer. She doesn’t stop kissing him as she slides down so she’s lying alongside of him, and then she rolls so she’s fully on top of him, her hands in his hair and his clutching her hips. She smiles into his mouth when she feels how solid his grip on them is. 

They make out for a few minutes, hands and mouths moving to touch every easily accessible stretch of skin. And then he pulls back, panting, and pupils large as fuck. 

He flops back onto the ground and throws his arm over his eyes as he catches his breath. 

“We’re not doing this tonight, Tess. There is way too much alcohol in our systems and I’m not entirely sure either of us will remember this tomorrow.” He moves his arm and looks up at her. “And I really want to remember this.”

“Tomorrow?” she asks and she feels like she should be ashamed of how hopeful she sounds, but she isn’t. 

“Fuck yes,” he replies. “Fuck yes.”

“Okay. So we should try and sleep so tomorrow comes faster, yeah?”

He laughs in response. “Yeah. I’m just gonna stay right here,” he says. 

“No you’re not,” she says, shaking her head in denial. 

“I don’t think I can move right now,” he says as he points to his groin.

“Maybe you should take care of that in the shower before coming to bed,” she agrees with a smile that’s wider than it has any right to be. “I have a playlist you can use and everything.”

He barks out a laugh at that. 

She pats his belly as she shifts off of him and helps him up. He follows the momentum from the assist and hugs her to him with his whole body. 

“See,” she says, “You’re good at this already.”

He presses a kiss to the juncture of her neck and shoulder and she sucks in a breath. 

“Go take that shower before I jump you,” she tells him as she pulls back and pats him on the ass.

“Yeah,” he agrees and heads into the hall bathroom. 

Tessa slowly pads into her own bathroom, grabbing one of her large button down shirts to sleep in as she passes her closet. She brushes her teeth, washes her face and quickly braids her hair. 

She goes back into the living room to wash out their glasses and tidy up a bit and tries not to think about what’s happening in her guest bath. The alcohol and heavy conversation hit her hard as she finishes up and nothing sounds better than sleep in that moment. 

She’s just pulled back the covers and is crawling into bed when she hears his harsh inhale. 

“Have I mentioned I’m also a bit of an ass man?”

“I knew that, too,” she replies as she pats the empty space next to her. 

He slides in beside her but instead of laying back against the pillows he wraps his arms around her and nuzzles his face against her chest. 

“Not much of a pillow,” she says with a grimace. 

“The best pillow,” he rebuts, turning his face and pressing a kiss against her sternum. 

“Whatever you say.”

“We’ll talk about it in the morning,” he assures her. 

Despite the uncertainty and things left unsaid, Tess falls asleep quickly.


	2. Let's Talk About You and Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your enthusiastic response to the first chapter. You made us smile a lot! I hope the second lives up to your expectations. As usual, let us know what you think.
> 
> You can find me at peacefulboo on tumblr and twitter and you can find C in my author's notes because she likes to hide. ;)

The way Scott is stroking her side with his thumb tickles and Tessa shifts a bit in an attempt to shy away from his light touch. His head is pillowed more on her stomach than on her breasts now and she can feel his warm breath through the thin woven cotton of the shirt she chose. She has a bit of a headache and her mouth feels dry, and she is completely unmotivated to move right now. Or talk. Because it’s morning and mornings are the worst. 

She could get accustomed to waking up to Scott holding onto her, though. Tessa runs her fingers through his hair and breathes in deep allowing herself the space to wake up slowly and get used to his presence. After a few more minutes, she feels Scott shift as he rubs his nose against the the space between two of her shirt buttons. It bumps against her navel piercing and she sucks in a sharp breath. 

He chuckles and the puffs of air against her skin have her squirming. 

“G’morning,” he says against the softer flesh of her belly. 

She makes a non-committal hum in response and then almost groans when she feels his nose rub against the bare skin he finds in the gap between shirt buttons. It takes her a few seconds before she asks, a little incredulous, “Are you trying to unbutton my shirt with your nose?”

She can feel his jaw move with the smile accompanying his response, “Maybe? This one was already partly undone so I figure I have a head start.”

“I find that teeth work better if you’re not going to use your hands,” she replies, voice husky. 

“Tessa Virtue,” Scott admonishes as his head pops up to look at her. 

“Given everything I told you last night, this is what scandalizes you?” Tess asks, completely incredulous. 

“That was general information. This came with visuals!” he says as if that explains the difference. 

“Me getting fucked in a closet didn’t come with visuals?” she asks, frankly a little offended by his lack of imagination. 

“Rink closets are gross, T,” he tells her, nose wrinkled in disgust. 

“You’re saying you wouldn’t be willing to fuck me in an arena closet?”

“I’d at least find an empty locker room and wedge the door shut,” he tells her as if that’s so much better. 

“There are no empty lockers during competitions, Scott.”

“Then some other room,” he tells her like it’d be so easy. 

“Trust me when I say at Bud Gardens, a closet’s all you get.”

“Nationals or Worlds? If it was Nationals I think I’m just gonna kill myself now because a competition closet fuck cannot hold the record eight years later.” The speed with which he asks almost gives her whiplash. 

“Worlds,” she says. Twenty-year-old Tessa was a little too distracted in 2010 to be finding any hook-ups after their skates. 

“Ah. It was that hockey player volunteer on the Zamboni team, wasn’t it,” he tells her. 

Fuck-a-duck, how does he remember this shit? 

“How do you remember this stuff?” she asks, the disbelief dripping from her voice. 

“I remember everything about you, Tess. Everything,” he gives her a look that’s somehow both heated and sentimental and then dips down to press a kiss against her belly before shaking his head. “Don’t change the subject. What was his name again? Stewart? Sebastian?”

“His name was Sterling, if you must know.” Scott tries to lift his head to give her what she’s sure is a look that will give away just how appalling that sounds to him, so she holds his head to her belly and laughs. “It’s the most Harlequin cliche of a name, I know.”

“It really is,” he agrees. 

“I think I needed that then. Something fantastical. A big part of the appeal was that it didn’t feel real. That and the Carmen of it all...” Tessa tells him with a sigh. She scratches her nails lightly against his scalp and from the way he buries his face against her she knows he remembers all the reasons she would have needed escape. From her legs still giving her problems to missing out on winning in their hometown to the weird tension they had between them that whole season that was so oppressive and daunting. 

“How did you not laugh at him when he introduced himself?” he asks, and she knows it’s his way of bringing the subject back to lighter topics. 

"Who says I didn't. If he thought it was a flirtatious laugh that's on him. Besides, I wasn’t really paying that much attention to what he was saying, if I’m honest.”

Scott grunts in response. 

“He wasn’t much of a conversationalist really, so it worked out. He did hold the door for me though.”

"At least he was a good Canadian boy"

“I think he MAY have been American,” Tessa admits before thinking it through. 

A playful nip at the button resting directly over her piercing causes her to jerk and look sharply in his direction, “No, T. No. Your best fuck cannot be an American. It can’t. That makes you a bad Canadian!” Scott says with so much horror that Tessa can’t help but laugh.

“You steppin’ up, Moir?” Tessa asks, and maybe she holds her breath a bit as she waits for an answer.

What she doesn’t quite expect is the way he rolls off her and sits across from her on the bed. She lays there peering at him for a second when he takes her hand and pulls her into a sitting position as well. He settles with his legs crossed in front of him and tugs on both of her hands to get her to do the same, so they’re facing each other, knees touching, his hands curled around hers. 

He stares at her for a few moments, searching her face for an answer she only hopes she knows the question to, and though she flinches for a second -- her instinct is always to hide her vulnerability -- she lets down her guard and holds his gaze. She smiles, small but open and a little wistful, doing her best to let him see how much she wants him; how much she loves him. 

Scott’s lips turn up in their own smile after a moment, a smile that grows slowly until it lights up his whole face and he bounces their hands lightly in excitement. 

“I just need to be clear, T,” he says, his voice low and full of gravity, “If we do this, that’s it for me. I’m gonna be all in with you.” He reaches up to cup her cheek. “Is that something you think you’d be ready for?”

She turns her head slightly and kisses his palm, “You sound like you’re asking for a guarantee.”

“Nah. There are no guarantees.” He doesn’t take his eyes off her face. “Just letting you know that I can’t have sex with you and not make a real go at a relationship with you. I’m not built for that in general, and this is us. You’re the dream girl.”

She laughs at that. 

“Really, Virtch. You’ve been my dream girl for the last decade.” He shrugs. 

She wishes she could say it back but she can’t. Not because he’s not an incredible man, he is. He’s the best. But because Tessa worked incredibly hard over the last ten years to shut those feelings out. 

“So you want to be my boyfriend if we’re going to sleep together?” 

“Ugh. I guess that’s the word, yeah,” he answers. “What do you say? Wanna go steady?”

She could ask for time, she knows she could. And he’d give it to her. But the truth is? She doesn’t want any time and she doesn’t need it. 

“I believe I do. I want to try, at the very least,” she admits. 

Scott lets out a victory yell and fist pumps and Tessa can’t help but laugh at his ridiculous response. “We won’t regret this, T. We won’t.”

And then he’s kissing her and it’s fantastic. Their kisses last night were hot and heavy and pretty damn sloppy, senses dulled from too much alcohol and exhaustion, if memory serves. Now Tessa feels every movement and change of position in her entire body. The way his hands move against her with surety and confidence, the way his lips and tongue and teeth play across her skin. She’s completely overwhelmed with how right he feels beneath her hands. 

He kisses along her jaw and she shivers as he finds that spot just below her ear that he’s usually so careful to avoid when they’re on the ice. And she realizes that he’s known. This entire fucking time, he’s known that he needed to avoid touching her exactly there if he wanted her to keep her composure. He licks and kisses down her neck, only to dart back up to that damn spot and lick and then softly blow a light puff of air across it, and even she’s surprised by how violently she shivers in response. 

Scott chuckles at her reaction, low and knowing, and Tessa finds she needs to know as soon as possible if he’s discovered her other secret places over the years. 

“How?” she manages to squeak out, flustered and about as unsexy as possible. 

“I know you, T,” he replies as he pulls back to look at her with a satisfied grin. 

“You do,” she agrees. 

And then he kisses the bridge of her nose and she has to hold back a groan. Shit. 

His kisses alternate between light and firm and his hands are steady and strong against her rib cage. There’s a small part of her that wants him to hurry the fuck up and move along, but there’s an equally strong part that’s content to let him take his time. Because it’s Scott and he’s kissing the wits out of her and he’s completely amazing at it. 

His hands may be steady and still on her, but hers move erratically and she’s finding it hard not to try and touch every part of him all at once. His back is warm and smooth against her hands and his hair feels amazing sliding between her fingers and his chest is so enticing, she can’t decide where she wants her touch to land, so she doesn’t bother making a choice. 

She’s never felt this untethered and frantic. And yet, he’s there, steady and sure, and so, so good.

He discovers, or redicovers, so many of her secret spots. And he laughs with delight as he elicits increasingly loud and unhinged responses from her. He finally moves his hands, so the pads of his fingers can gently caress the delicate skin of the back of her upper arm. She stutters out a sigh when he scrapes his teeth along the spot just below and to the side of her right breast. She’s just about to come with the friction of his hip bone against her core and that fucking beautiful stimulation when he chuckles and moves his mouth away. 

“No!” she cries out without a thought. 

Scott immediately pops his head up, brow furrowed in concern. 

Tessa scoff’s in disbelief, “Go back to that. That was...you have to go back.”

Scott just shakes his head in wonder and complies. And when she comes, it’s little in magnitude but crests in waves, stretching out and out, and it’s so, so good. 

When she’s caught her breath, he kisses that spot one more time and looks up to say, “You okay to move on or do you need a break?”

“Oh, you can definitely keep going,” she answers. 

Tessa almost comes again when he sucks the skin just above her navel piercing, and maybe has another small little flash of an orgasm when he firmly rubs his thumb along the spot two inches above her pubic bone that has been a secret from every guy she’s ever known because it’s in such a strange, ridiculous place and no one ever took the time to ask. There isn’t even much friction against her core this time. 

But Scott just knows. 

He crawls up her body again, kisses her thoroughly, rubs his thumb against that damn spot behind her ear and then looks her in the face with that beautiful smile of his. 

Tessa stretches to reach into the nightstand drawer to grab a condom and hands it to him. His hands shake a little when he tries to rip it open and Tessa realizes how far gone he is. She takes over, though her hands are far from steady, and when the condom is on, Scott presses a firm, almost chaste kiss to her lips and asks, “You sure?”

“Please,” is all she can think to say as she nods enthusiastically. “Please.”

And then he’s finally, _finally_ buried inside of her, thrusts firm and heavy, face close, with words of adoration spilling out of his lips, and he slips his right hand behind her back and taps her right at the base of her spine, she comes so hard she’s pretty sure she loses touch with this reality and ascends to a higher plane. 

It’s a few moments before she drifts back to her body and finds him collapsed and panting against her and she’s pretty sure she’ll never want him to move away from her. Which isn’t something she’s ever felt before. Usually after sex her skin is too sensitive and her brain too full and the last thing she wants is to keep touching the guys she’s with. 

Her normal MO is to retreat to the bathroom immediately after sex, take care of hygiene issues (because seriously, UTIs are the worst), and hope he’s gone in the morning. With Ryan, she was okay if he slept in the bed every once in a while, but he, thankfully, would usually just pass out on his side of the bed and leave her be until the morning. 

But when Scott starts to roll off of her, she panics a little, clutching him to her. “Not yet,” she breathes out. Scott presses a kiss to her sternum, then leans up to kiss her fully on the mouth before burying his face in the crook of her neck for a few more minutes. 

He does get heavy after that, but just when she thinks she’s going to have to break down and ask him to shift, he kisses her quick and then shifts so he’s lying on his side beside her. He keeps his arm wrapped around her and she threads her fingers with his and raises his hand to her lips.

“That wasn’t bad, was it?” he asks with a wink she can hear in his voice, and she can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of her.

“You are an absurd man, Scott Moir. Beautiful, but absurd,” she tells him as she turns her head to look at him. His hair is a mess and he’s flushed and sweaty but she’s pretty sure she’s never seen him so at ease and relaxed. She reaches out to cup his cheek without thinking about it and has to smile at how he nuzzles against her palm. “That was the best sex of my life. I’m not even going to try and be coy about it.”

“You’re an amazingly responsive woman,” he tells her, not just a little smug. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as beautiful as you right now.”

She knows her hair is a frizzy mess and she’s just as sweaty and flushed as he is, but she can feel how happy and content she must look. 

With a heavy sigh, he crawls off the bed to dispose of the condom and Tessa reluctantly gets up to pee and clean up a little before she joins him back on the bed. 

She tucks herself into his side when they’ve settled again and can’t help but let her fingers travel up and down his abdomen and chest. She has so much to learn and discover about him. Which is another new desire. Tessa has been able to appreciate the male form before, most of her past lovers were built well, but she’s never before had this desire to get to know every dip and curve, to know what will make them sigh or shake or shudder. But with Scott she wants to learn it all. She wants to know him the way he seems to know her. 

“How did you know where to touch me to do...that?” she asks, though it’s not the complete question. 

“Like I said, Tess. I know you,” he murmurs into her hair. “I know your body. And I learned most of those spots a long time ago. Mostly learned _not_ to touch them, or at least not to linger.”

“But how did you _know_?” She doesn’t remember ever doing anything embarrassing when he’s touched her. Nothing that should have given her away. 

“It was usually just a sigh or a shiver,” he tells her. “Sometimes it was even just a blush. And sometimes it was just the way you’d avoid eye contact after. When we were younger I just knew not to linger, or press to hard, or too long in certain spots. As we got older I understood a little more fundamentally what was happening. You fascinate me.”

“You’ve always fascinated me, too, but I think I spent so much time pushing those thoughts away that I didn’t let myself know you, too.” It’s a sad revelation for her. That he’s been spending a decade cataloguing her turn ons and she’s been forcing herself to ignore any of the signs he’d have given off. 

“We’ve got time, T,” he says fondly, not sounding sad or disappointed in the least. 

“Show me one of yours,” she implores. 

He peers at her in response, like he’s gauging her sincerity. She nods in encouragement and he smiles back, a goofy, happy smile that has her smiling back. 

Scott shifts them so Tessa lays on her back against the pillows and he’s once again draped over her with his face near her breasts. She huffs out a laugh and rolls her eyes as she cards her fingers through his hair. 

“The girls and I are going to get to know each other,” he tells her. 

She realizes that he’d more or less ignored her breasts when they’d made love earlier. He had kissed them for a second and then moved on to the spot on her right side that drove her to distraction so she hadn’t really noticed, but he’d mostly left them alone. Now she understands that wasn’t due to his lack of interest, but to hers. 

Though Tessa had wanted to get to know his body better, this will do for now. 

“By all means,” she encourages. She trusts him and she’s curious. 

“Why thank you,” he replies with an exaggerated wink. “There’s a shortage of perfect breasts in the world. It’d be a shame to neglect yours.”

She doesn’t have the chance to point out the misquote because he’s immediately drawing the back of his nails lightly over one of her peaks as he pulls the other into his mouth and gently sucks. She jolts in response and clenches her jaw.

“Well fuck,” she whispers. 

She can feel him smile against her as he drags his lower teeth along the lower swell of the one in his mouth. 

“I knew these ladies would be responsive,” he murmurs as he nuzzles his nose against the space between them, before diving in and doing the same to her right boob. “So gorgeous,” he says as a flush creeps across the top. “You’re so damn beautiful.”

“I love you,” she blurts out. And immediately closes her eyes, embarrassment creeping down her scalp and slinking down her spine until it curls around to pool in her belly.

Damnit. Tessa once again finds herself cursing the ice storm and the wine and Scott’s mouth and hands and body. And his knowing eyes and kind words. 

“Hey,” he says as he cradles her face in his hands, thumbs brushing against the apples of her cheeks. “Tess. Look at me.” He sounds calm and sweet and so much like himself that she can’t help but comply. 

He’s got the most gorgeous smile on his face that’s a little mix of hope and joy and disbelief. And she put it there. That can’t be so bad, right?

“I said that,” she tells him, because right now she’s great at being articulate. 

“I hope you meant it,” he replies. “Cause I love you, too, Virtch.”

“Yeah?” she asks as she bites her lip to keep her own smile from cracking her face in half. 

“A lot,” he says with a nod. “I love you a lot.”

Tessa inhales to clear the emotion from her body and tugs gently at his face so she can kiss him again. And again, and again. 

And when she’s had her fill, she brings her knees up around his hips and uses her strength and momentum to flip them so he’s on his back and she’s perched on top of him. The admiration in his face makes her feel like a fucking goddess. 

Tessa lightly scratches her nails down the center of his chest and smirks when he gasps. 

“Show me.”


End file.
